


always welcome

by deiectus



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deiectus/pseuds/deiectus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in Hazakurain, Phoenix, shaken by the case, needs someone to talk to. He goes to Edgeworth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	always welcome

**Author's Note:**

> pre-slash phoenix/miles. takes place after the last case in _trials and tribulations_ , bridge to the turnabout, so spoilers abound. I'm replaying the case and am not quite finished with it, so apologies for any errors.

Edgeworth isn’t sure why someone is knocking at his door--he rarely gets visitors--but it’s not that late in the evening to reek of impropriety, and he has a strange feeling that he should open the door, that someone is out there.

He’s surprised to see that it’s Wright.

“Edgeworth,” Wright says. He looks ‘beat,’ as Kay would say. Edgeworth frowns.

“What is it, Wright?” he asks.

Wright rubs at  his face with both hands. “It’s just--” He removes his hands and looks around, as if he’s afraid someone will hear him. “Can I... Can I come in?”

Edgeworth considers for a moment, but step aside (Edgeworth knew he would--it’s Wright, after all). “Yes.”

He steps in, looking a bit lost. It’s the first time he’s been here--how did he get Edgeworth’s address?--and he’s looking around as if taking it in, but he has the expression of someone who’s looking and not really seeing what they’re looking at.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Edgeworth says after a moment, and moves to the kitchen. Wright nods numbly and follows him, sitting down at the small table he keeps to the side. Edgeworth has a dining room (it’s ridiculous and he knows it; he rarely has guests, but his mother, for as little time as he knew her, always stressed the importance of entertaining) but this is better. More private. And Wright looks like he needs that. Edgeworth can give him this.

In fact, Edgeworth can also give him the whiskey he’s pouring into a small glass and sliding across the table. Wright blinks at it and takes a sip, grimacing as the alcohol goes down. Edgeworth frowns--it’s good stuff, what’s his problem--but doesn’t say anything.

“So,” Edgeworth says, sitting across from him. “What’s going on?”

“It’s...” Wright says after a moment. “It’s this case, this last case.. the one in Hazakurain.”

Edgeworth’s chest grows tight. Yes, that case. It haunts him in a small way--finally seeing that the Kurain Channeling Technique is real (Maya Fey has explained to Edgeworth that the mistake her mother made was probably because of the spirit of his father, as hard as that was for Edgeworth to hear). And that Godot was the murderer, though only protecting Maya Fey, was a tragedy in itself.

“I can’t believe it was Godot,” he says. “Well, Diego Armando. He was just... Edgeworth, he was just trying to protect Maya, for Mia. And Maya won’t talk to me; she’s gone back to Kurain as much as she doesn’t want anything to do with the Fey clan anymore.” Wright takes another drink. Edgeworth wonders, for a moment, why Wright came to him, but it’s not worth wondering about. Wright needs him, just like he needed him to defend Iris.

Wright covers his face again. “Thank you for opening your door. I just didn’t know where else to go.”

“Of course, Wright,” Edgeworth says. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” Edgeworth is a  little worried he’ll say no. It’s not like he’s been a good friend to him through their entire acquaintance .

Wright uncovers his face and smiles weakly. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“You can talk to me,” Edgeworth says. “I am here for you.” That’s what people in these situations say, isn’t it? Edgeworth has no experience with them, save for the one time Franziska broke down when she was younger and he had comforted her (though awkwardly).

Wright sighs. “I know... I know Maya is being strong for Pearls, but I wish she’d let me be there for her.”

“She is dealing with a difficult amount of emotional pain,” Edgeworth says. “It is not surprising that she may wish to deal with it on her on for a while.”

“I know,” Wright says, looking to the side with a faint expression of annoyance that clearly says _you think I don’t know that?_ “But it still bothers me.”

Edgeworth inclines his head. “That is also understandable. You care about her a great deal.”

“I do,” Wright says, nodding.”I really do.”

“Wright,” Edgeworth says, unable to help himself, knowing this may be the wrong time, “if you don’t mind, I’ve always been curious.. is there something more than friendship between you and Maya Fey?”

Wright shakes his head rather vigorously. “No,” he says, “No, no, no. There never has been, at least on my side. I’ve occasionally suspected that she might, but... no. She’s never talked to me about it, which isn’t surprising. Whatever delusions Pearls has are entirely her own. Besides, Maya is much too young for me.”

“Age difference.. it’s not uncommon,” Edgeworth says. “But thank you for telling me.”

Wright looks up at Edgeworth. “Why, are you interested in her?”

Edgeworth flushes slightly, suddenly uncomfortable. She’s not the one I-- he thinks, and cuts the thought off. “No, not at all,” he says. _I think it may be you_ , he lets himself finish the thought, _that I have been interested in. But I doubt that you’ll reciprocate the feelings, and now is hardly the time to bring them up._

“Anyway,” Wright says, looking at Edgeworth a little strangely, “as I was saying... this case, it’s just... I can’t sleep well, Edgeworth. I can’t stop worrying about Maya. And Godot,” he laughs, “of all people. I feel so sorry for him.”

“You have always been rather compassionate,” Edgeworth says.

“Yeah, I guess I... I guess I am,” Wright continues, “probably for more than my own good.”

Edgeworth shrugs. “As they say, ‘it is what it is,’ Wright.”

Wright looks at Edgeworth, smiling one one side of his mouth, nearly a smirk. “That’s odd, coming from you.”

Edgeworth blinks. “Why?” he asks.

“It’s so... accepting,” he says, struggling for the appropriate word. “You’ve never really been like that before.

“I like to think that I’ve grown up quite a bit,” Edgeworth says, with a slight stiffness. “Or do you not agree?”

“No, I think you’re right,” Wright says, smiling softly now. “You really have. I’m proud of you.”

Edgeworth looks to the side, embarrassed. “W-well,” he says. “That’s enough about me. You came here for my help, or at least, you came here for yourself.” He looks back at Wright. “We should get back to you.”

“Okay,” Wright says, nodding, and takes another long drink, finishing his glass. Edgeworth wordlessly pours him another one.

There’s a few minutes of silence as Wright thinks. Finally he says, “No, I, I think that’s it. I’m just worried about Maya and the case won’t leave me alone.” He frowns.

“The poor girl,” Edgeworth says quietly, “seeing and then losing her mother after seventeen years.”

“I know,” Wright groans. “It’s awful. The whole thing is awful. And I wonder why Misty Fey didn’t reunite with Maya. Perhaps because she knew she might be killed. Killed in Maya’s place. She read that letter; though Pearls told me the seal had been broken and I thought it might have been Maya that found it. Or maybe she did. I can’t remember. There was so much going on in that case.”

“Wright,” Edgeworth says. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you--”

“I _am_ exhausted,” Wright says bitterly. “I can’t sleep, I have no appetite--”

Edgeworth immediately regrets giving Wright alcohol before giving him something to eat. He’ll do so tomorrow, make him breakfast or lunch or take him out somewhere.

“Why don’t you sleep on my couch,” Edgeworth says calmly, even though he was interrupted. “I’ve been told it’s quite comfortable.” Frankziska has actually crashed here a few times, even though Edgeworth offered her his bed. She wouldn’t take it out of pride. Typical.

He doesn’t say I’ll look after you, though it’s on the tip of his tongue.

“I also have sleeping pills, though they may not mix well with the whiskey.”

“No, I’ll...” Wright looks like he’s about to say he’ll go home. “Okay,” he says next. “I’ll stay here. But I’ll skip the pills. I’m just... I’m just so tired I think I may be able to sleep, finally.”

Edgeworth nods. “Alright. Sit here for a few moments and I’ll make up the bed.” He gets up and walks, but when he’s just at the doorway, Wright speaks.

“Edgeworth,” he says.

Edgeworth turns and looks back. “What is it, Wright?”

“I...” Wright says, “thanks.”

Edgeworth gives him a small smile. “You’re welcome, Wright.” _You’re always welcome here_ , he doesn’t say, but thinks better of it, and says firmly, “you are always welcome at my house.”

Wright smiles. “You really have grown up, you old softy.”

Edgeworth prickles. “I am not a ‘softy,’ as you say.”

“Yeah, yeah, you totally are,” Wright says, finishing his second glass. He waves a hand at Edgeworth. “Go on, do your hospitality stuff, I bet you’re really good at it.”

Edgeworth doesn’t roll his eyes (he _doesn’t_ , thank you) and goes to make up the couch, getting pillows and blankets from his hallway closet. It’s a pull out couch, which is perfect for guests (again, why would he ever have guests? but Franziska counts, he supposes). When he’s finished, he walks back to the kitchen to see Wright asleep on the table.

Edgeworth looks at him for a moment. This man... he’s done so much for Edgeworth, no, for so many people, and there he is, feeling helpless. I must show him that he is not helpless, Edgeworth thinks suddenly, he is the best man I have ever met. But how do I go about doing that? I suppose helping him in these small ways is one way I can show my personal appreciation.

He walks over to Wright and gently shakes his shoulder. “Wright,” Edgeworth says, “wake up. It won’t do to have you asleep at my table.”

“Whas...” Wright mumbles, and then opens his eyes. He blinks up at Edgeworth. “Edgeworth. Where am I?” he says, voice sleep-slurred.

“You’re at my house, Wright,” Edgeworth says, “and you’re going to sleep on my couch. Get up.”

“Okay,” Wright says. He stands up and Edgeworth takes a hold of his arm to steady him. Wright follows Edgeworth into the living room and takes off his suit jacket, folding it and putting it over the back of an armchair. He takes off his shoes and socks and sets them neatly by the side of the couch and then unbuttons his shirt, leaving just his undershirt and pants.

“Um, Edgeworth,” Wright says, looking a bit embarrassed, “Not that I mind, since you’re a guy and all, but I’m going to get down to my underwear to sleep now and that’s a bit private.”

Edgeworth sniffs. “Of course,” he says with a smirk, “I know when I’m not wanted. Goodnight, Wright.”

Wright smiles at him. “Goodnight, Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth walks to his own bedroom and gets ready for the night, then walks back into the kitchen and cleans up Wright’s class and puts the whiskey away. This may be the start of a better friendship between them, he thinks, and thinks back to what he thought when he saw Wright asleep at his table. Maybe, he thinks again, these small acts will show Wright how much he is appreciated. He is sure many others would do the same for Wright as he is doing tonight.

After he is finished cleaning up, Edgeworth walks back to the living room to see Wright asleep on the couch, snoring softly. Edgeworth shakes his head, smiling slightly. “Goodnight, Wright,” he says again, and turns out the lights.

 


End file.
